


Can't Take Anymore

by GotTheSilver



Series: Supernatural Codas [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: post 12.12He can’t stop watching Cas, part of him feeling like if he takes his eyes off him for even a second, this will be revealed to be some kind of fucking mind warp and they’ll be back in that barn, Cas so close to taking his last breath and Dean helpless to prevent it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> on [tumblr](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com/post/157356375637/spn-1212-coda-deancas-g)

Dean doesn’t want Cas driving after that, doesn’t really want him doing anything except coming back to the bunker with them; he makes Cas hand his keys over to Sam, and Mary says she’ll ride with him in the truck, which—okay. Dean, alone, with Cas, after watching him almost—.

He can’t stop watching Cas, part of him feeling like if he takes his eyes off him for even a second, this will be revealed to be some kind of fucking mind warp and they’ll be back in that barn, Cas so close to taking his last breath and Dean helpless to prevent it.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas says, his eyes closed in the passenger seat of the impala. “But you won’t be if you don’t watch the road.”

“I wasn’t—”

Cas cuts him off with a snorting noise of disbelief and Dean shakes his head, hands tightening on the wheel.

“Okay maybe I was, but Cas you—I mean we almost—I almost—” Dean presses his lips together in a vain attempt to suppress what he’s feeling. “Thought I told you not to do that again,” he says, finally. “Can’t have you dying on me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Dammit Cas, just—you know, what you said, about knowing us being the best part of your life?”

“I meant it.”

Dean glances at Cas; his shirt is still covered in blood, traces of it on his skin, some matted in his hair, and Dean knows Cas could clean it all up with a wave of his hand, can’t think why he hasn’t. “Me too,” he says quietly. “Knowing you, I—this gig, man, it blows. I never thought I’d be hunting demons, or that my best friend would be an angel, hell, I never even thought I’d have a best friend. I had Sam, and I had my dad, but—”

“Dean—”

“No, Cas, I—” Dean stares straight ahead, the familiar view of the headlights on the dark highway settling the nerves jangling around his chest. “The only people I ever said I love you to either died or left me and I—I’m a damn curse.”

There’s quiet from Cas, and Dean wonders if he’s said too damn much, if he shouldn’t just keep his mouth shut. “You’re not a curse,” Cas says softly. “No more than I am.”

“You’re an angel,” Dean says, shooting a look at Cas, his knuckles almost white as they grip the wheel. “You can’t be a curse. Cas, I—I do, okay? Just. I can’t say it, I try and it’s like I choke on the words, but I—you gotta know that I do.”

“I don’t need you to say it, Dean,” Cas says, almost sounding exasperated. “ _You_ don’t need to, I see it whenever I look at you. Your colours they—” Cas breaks off. “I don’t know how to describe it so you understand. Before, when we first met, you didn’t have these colours. Now you do.”

Dean doesn’t say anything in response; part of him wants to ask when the colours changed, when he started to have the colours he’s got now, but he’s not sure he wants to know. “So you can read me? Just like that?”

“No,” Cas says, finally waving a hand over his shirt and getting rid of the blood. “If you were that easy to read, I wouldn’t have so much trouble with you.”

“Hey, I’m a delight,” Dean says in protest before glancing at Cas. His shirt is still torn up, and he hasn’t got rid of the blood on his coat, but Dean’s just glad that big pool of blood over his stomach isn’t visible anymore. Turning back to the road, Dean shakes his head. “You really don’t mind that I can’t—it’s not that I don’t want to, Cas, buddy, I’d give anything to be able to say it to you, but—”

“I thought I was going to die tonight, Dean, and I was unsure of many things in the face of that, but I was never, and have never been, unsure about my feelings for you, or yours for me.”

There’s not much Dean can say to that, instead, he puts his hand on the space between them, palm upturned in an invitation. It takes a moment, but then he feels the slide of Cas’ palm against his, the twist of their fingers together, and something inside his chest loosens. He hates himself, a little, for not being able to say it, for not being able to give Cas those words, but as much as he wants to, there’s a little voice in his brain that can’t stop repeating the short list of names of people he’s said it to who have then either died or left.

Dean knows, deep in whatever remains of the tatters of his soul, that Cas won’t leave him if he can help it. It’s an unshakeable truth, one of the things that keeps him going when the world is crashing down on them, but it doesn’t get him past that giant mental block.

“You’re staying at home,” Dean says, thumb grazing over the back of Cas’ hand. “Until I know you’re okay, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Dean, I’m fully recovered.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Dean—”

“No.” Dean squeezes Cas’ hand. “Just—let me do this.”

Cas sighs, and Dean can almost feel the point at which he gives in. Dean might not be able to say the words, but he can do this; can take care of Cas, can make sure he’s going to be okay after what happened tonight. He’s better at this than he is with words, he’ll do whatever Cas wants if it means he’ll stay in the bunker and stay safe. If it means he won’t ever come that close to losing Cas again.

“I can’t lose you,” Dean says. “Whatever else, I—losing you? It’s not an option. Ever.”

“If I can help—”

“No, Cas. No. The entire fucking world can end if it has to, I’m not having you die on me.”

“If the world ends, I imagine we would also die.”

Dean huffs out a soft laugh. “Maybe you’ve got a point, but so do I. Cas, if I lose you, I lose everything. When Lucifer took you over, I—I couldn’t cope, and I _knew_ you were still alive, but not having you around? Not knowing if I’d get you back? If you died, I don’t know what I’d do.”

There’s quiet from Cas, and Dean wonders what he’s going to say, but then he feels the soft press of Cas’ lips against his cheek, and Dean realises that maybe words are overrated because that simple action tells him everything he ever needed to know.

“We’ll be home soon,” Dean says as Cas leans against him, the weight a comfort as he drives on. “Promise.”

And somewhere in that, Dean makes a promise to himself that one day he’s going to say the words Cas deserves to hear. One day.


End file.
